Just Ignore Me: Another Rambling Post About Nothing

Okay, so I'm basically Holly-Freakin'-Homemaker at this point, alright? (Or is it "allright"? Whatever. Anyway.) Holly-Homemaker, checkin' in. So.

I'm sitting here, in suburbia, eating ice cream. I just put another load of clothes in the wash after returning home from taking my old assistant (you know, at my "old job") to lunch. Hadn't seen her in awhile. Needed to catch up. And rescue her, she's now the only girl in a male-dominated company. Poor deary. I remember those days. She told me about her boyfriend and how they got caught making out last night in his room by his parents. She's 21, he's 23. They both still live at home. He's her first boyfriend, first kiss, first real love. I asked her if they both had their clothes on.

"Yes. And the door was open!"

"So it was not a huge deal, right?" She shrugged. "Then what are you all freaked out about? As long as everyone was clothed and buttoned-up, you're doin' okay."

"Well we were under the covers... in the dark... and I was kinda'... the aggressor..." This from the sweetest, most mild-mannered, little 21-year-old, do-gooder in the whole universe. I gasped and howled with laughter. I reassured her that almost everyone has been caught in that situation and that it could have been much, MUCH worse. Then I advised her not to do it again, at least... not to get caught. What?!

I'm settling into a nice routine. I get up every morning at 6:00-6:15 to make breakfast for Tef. He usually gets downstairs at about 6:30-6:35. Same breakfast every morning: bacon, poached egg, toasted English muffin, Diet Sunkist (soda secret's out -- sorry, hon). I have the prep for this down to a science. There should be short-order cooks taking notes. (Put the oven on "warm" first thing. If you're done cooking before your eater arrives, no cold food. You're welcome.)

After I'm done making his breakfast, I pour my coffee (already ready, from being programmed the night before) and make mine. Sometimes we eat together, sometimes we don't. Depends on the time table. Unlike my husband, I like a little variety at 6 am.

He gives me a bye-smooch and heads off to work (just like Ward and June). I eat my breakfast, watch the morning news (sometimes) and unload dishes from the night before. I then load the breakfast dishes, read my Bible and Catechism (I'm on that plan where you try to read both in a year) and get done in time (hopefully) for the "Holy Land Rosary" on EWTN at 7:30. Pray and then head upstairs to brush my teeth and put on my workout clothes for "In Shape with Sharon Mann" and then "Namaste Yoga" on FitTV (Mon, Wed, Fri) or one of my Cathe Friedrich DVDs (Tues, Thurs, Sat). Shower and then check email and wash and/or fold laundry and pick up anything that might be out of order.

Head back downstairs for my mid-morning snack. Talk to the fish. Listen to music, radio, Food Network, whatever. Think about and prioritize tasks to be completed (dusting, vacuuming, cleaning bathrooms; organizing various drawers, cabinets, the garage; working on scrapbooks, yard work, whatever) and plotting any errands that need running. Do that in between checking my email and googling something I might be curious about.

Round about 3:30 I start thinking about what to make for dinner. If it's something that needs time to cook, I've got a head start. (Meatloaf, for instance, takes about 2.5 hours or so, start to finish). I think in terms of "meals" when I shop at the grocery store. I buy enough "meal" ingredients for the week that can also be made into sandwiches or stews afterwards. And I always buy one special thing for Sunday dinner. This week it was a whole chicken. We already had celery so I bought carrots and fennel to dice up with onions and the fresh bread, which will be stale enough to use for stuffing by Sunday. Dinner is on the table when Tef arrives home or shortly thereafter, about 5:30-6:00.

I don't mind saying it, I rock. I like how everything is neat and tidy and almost all aspects of our home fit together like little puzzle pieces. It's very tidy. I like tidy. A lot. And although Tef is much less concerned with tidiness, he leaves me alone to make it happen. I love that.

But that doesn't mean I'm bored -- far from it. It's a lot of work being this organized. But when I plan ahead and prepare for what's coming down the pike, we can pull off stupendous parties (like the one we had last Saturday) relatively fuss-free. And our guests have a stinking BLAST.

We had a theme party (again). This year it was a "Rat Pack" party. Everyone came as either a gangster, rat packer or just in a nice shirt and tie. Most of the guys wore tuxes. The girls ranged from a red-hot twenties flapper to Audrey Hepburn; Marilyn Monroe to a saucy 40's secretary. I got to do my makeup like a 40's movie star and hot roll my hair into perfect Rita Hayworth curls with a big rhinestone butterfly clip above my left ear. We had rat pack music on the entire night, retro appetizers on retro trays, chocolate fondue, a martini bar, cigars and a poker game. So. Much. Fun.

I thought about it, though. Once we have kids, it won't be like this anymore. But that's another post for another day.

My resting heart rate is lower than I thought it was. (If you're looking for a meaningful segue here, I'd advise you to read the title of this post again.) I was thinking, like 64 or something, but I took it last night and it was 59. Which is pretty good. I did the math and it seems I've been working too hard. Which sounds counter-intuitive. But my anaerobic heart rate is supposedly only like 178. PAH! I was thinking more like 186. That's where I am when I top out (for instance, when I do a heavy Cathe Friedrich DVD). But I don't feel like I'm dying or anything at 186. I'm working hard, but I can breathe okay. I now have to modify my movements so I can keep it down in the 170's. It's certainly more fun, but I feel like I'm cheating.

Which makes me think, how hard is Cathe Friedrich's heart beating? Her workout crew? I realize people who have been vigorously, competitively athletic their whole lives will be able to work harder... but I've been working out pretty steadily for the past 10 years, have an "excellent" VO2 max and can whip all my friends' butts on the dancefloor, but I still get winded when I try to complete her workouts "all the way". But I'm probably in better shape than I think. I don't know anyone personally who's ever done any of her DVDs so I have no frame of reference.

Although I did have a conversation with a friend of mine at the party. She's signed up for two triathlons next summer, despite not having worked out for years. Um... Wow. She's taking an "ease yourself into running" type course at her gym. She said she's DYING with her heart rate in the 140's. That's just where I'm getting comfortable. I guess it's all relative. No way am I evah signing up for a triathlon. Fuggeddaboutit. I'll root someone else on, though.

The Bishop is coming to RCIA tonight to give a talk on the topic of the week. I'm a little nervous. We're so high-spirited and loud. And there's only about 11 or 12 of us. I wonder what the mood will be. I hope it's natural. I hope everyone isn't intimidated. Though I am already. He's cool... I like him, I guess. He's just not as open and approachable as our retired bishop, who brims with life and humor. We'll see. I just hope I don't get tongue-tied. I know I'm going to get called on to read or commentate. *exhale* If there's a catastrophe, I'll let you know.

OH! One last thing before I get the mail, put the clothes in the dryer and start dinner. Last night, an elf left a present on my pillow. *SQUEAL!* I'm so excited!

I love my job so much... Tah!